Sunday, January 20, 2013

Daydreaming And I'm Thinking Of France And Vendôme Pavilion


  The memories of some of the trips I have taken, particularly to England and France, in the last couple of years seem to constantly pop up in my head.
For instance, I'll be in a warrior pose during yoga class and I realize my mind is wandering through the


open air market in Aix ('ex')-en-Provence, where I once bought Provençal tablecloths and spices, ogled French cheese and ate little Madeleine cakes, paella and even saucission (which normally I never eat) while sitting with my son at one of the many old fountains that sprinkle this town. The best part of daydreaming, of course, is that I get to visit France again and again, if only in my mind. The problem with going there during yoga is that I am supposed to be in 'the present moment,' focused on breathing and aware of my body.


Now I'm in downward facing dog and the garden at le Vendôme Pavilion pops up in my head. It is an 18th century residence with a small French design garden in Aix, in the south of France. 


Not the kind of garden that is on a must see list or anything like that,


but the lovely kind of small park where people like to hang out on a bench to enjoy the view and fresh air while they relax a bit.


The large, ubiquitous plane-trees line up here like they do on other streets in the city, particularly on Cours Mirabeau--the big boulevard in town.


I visited this little garden early in Spring, 2012, on a clear, bright day.


I loved the concrete urns, the topiary and the pansies that filled numerous beds.
Back at yoga again and in bridge pose, my instructor is saying, "Make every pose be delicious," using her favorite yogi adjective.  And I remember that after seeing this garden, my husband and I went to a small café and purchased an inexpensive yet incredibly crusty and delicious French baguette.



Finally, I am laying in corpse pose--one of the most difficult positions in yoga, my instructor notes--during shavasana, the final relaxation phase.  I am taking long, slow breaths and relaxing all of my muscles. Meanwhile, my mind is lost in Menton, a small French town bordering Italy, where I walked for miles one day looking for a garden I never found. At least the views, and the memories, are inviting, peaceful and calming.

Namaste.



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